He Will Be the One To Decide
by EmeraldElegance
Summary: While in his mansion, President Snow takes the time to remember the victors, the competitors that have fought and won.But are they all of his respect? Snow will be the one to decide.Takes place after the 74th Games.Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games


The lingering sound of heavy footsteps echo's in the vast room. Cream colored walls complimented the golden frames that hung in the grand hallway in President Snow's mansion. The president took his time to observe all the vivid photos in the frames that came with taunting imagery of the past games. The president decides to take his time to survey all of the pictures, and starts off with the very first one.

_Christopher Beach; District Two; 1st annual hunger games victor_

Reads the solid gold platform beneath the frame. Christopher was one of the most remembered victors, what with his ability to outstand every contestant in the 1st Hunger Games, where the rules were not yet quite understood or taken seriously. But Christopher understood them. And he had no problem venomously murdering all of the other tributes. Bile rised in Snow's throat at the very thought, as the games were terribly bloody. But he would never admit that.

But as they became more gruesome, the Capitol decided they wanted... _more. _More bloodshed and gore that they would never see among their own homes, just on the television screen. By the time the very anticapated 5th Hunger Games came around, nearly every person was bound to watch. That year, a pretty girl from 4 won. Though she had looks, if you paid closer attention to her very photo hanging upon Snow's wall, all you could see was venom in her eyes.

_Crimson Day; District Four; 5th annual hunger games victor_

President Snow read with watchful eyes focused only on the most impressive people. He let his eyes wander far off into the distant. He became suddenly interested in staring at one of the most unexpected victors, one who was the opposite of impressive-

_Copper Fields; District Three; 17th annual hunger games victor_

Copper Fields, who was timid and highly unsocial, failing to peep a word at any of her interviews. When Snow had heard people were rooting for her, he scowled immensely, frowning upon those who cherished the weakling. But then the time came around and she won. Feeling beat, the president had learned to bet more wisely. So when the time came for the 18th hunger games victor to be crowned, he was sure of his very favorite tribute.

_Shimmeresque LeVacance; District One; 18th annual hunger games victor_

The confident boy from one was quite popular among the districts, or so he had been told. Which was a good thing, because Shimmeresque was a personal favorite of his, and his favorites had to make a fair impression on the district citizens also. The guy had flaunted his muscles very often, making the girls swoon. He was the handsome heart-throb who was adored by most. He had won by manipulating the girls and making them turn on the boys. He truly was that persuasive. By the end of those games, he was the last one standing.

The next few victors were not paid much heed to, as most of them were from Districts One and Two. During the next few years, it became common for a victor in those districts. But then came the first quarter quell. Everyone was shocked at the announcement at these games. Vote the tributes in? That was a terribly clever idea. And the victor was just as impressive.

_Patch Smith; District Eight; 25th annual hunger games victor_

His mysterious brown eyes shone brightly in the photo. And mystery was most likely his games strategy too. Whilst tributes from other districts were fighting cruelly, he kept to himself. The scrawny boy went unnoticable the whole games, and was only revealed to kill off his problem- the girl from 2, who was the last person standing besides him. It was gruesome, ending up with the girl having no arm and Patch missing several fingers. No matter the pain it caused, there had to be a victor, and that was Patch. Although President Snow had despised the competitors from such a terrible district, he had to admit that Patch had caught his cold-hearted eyes.

To many games had passed and there was no one who truly stood out, until the next Quarter Quell arrived. Twice as many tributes were reaped. It was sickening to the already deprived families, but to the Capitol these games couldn't have gotten better. The expectations were high, and nobody had expected an underdog as a victor.

_Haymitch Abernathy; 50th annual hunger games victor_

It was terrible how he had won. He had defied Snow's very home, out-smarting them while he used the forcefield to his own advantage. It could not have been worse. But oer the years, President Snow was made to face his highest fear- it had gotten worse.

_Katniss Everdeen; 74th annual hunger games victor_

_Peeta Mellark; 74th annual hunger games victor_

Two victors. Two more people to make the Capitol the laughing stock of Panem, to rid them of their power. The districts had to be in power now.

President Snow mentally slapped himself. How could he think like that when he was the almighty ruler of all, no exceptions at all? What rid him from his curious mental state was the _whoosh _sound of the grand doors opening, creating an obscure shadow and creaking noises. Snow warped around to see the head game-maker, Seneca Crane.

"Seneca," He taunts with mock surprise, "since when did you decide to pay the President a special visit?" He nods his head briskly, and walks with dignity all the way to where Snow stood. "Hello," Seneca greets with a sudden kindness. "Seneca, tell me what is wrong with this photo?" President Snow asks, pointing to the picture of the two latest victors.

"Well, I don't see any-"

"_Wrong,"_ Snow cuts in, paying Seneca's words no heed. "You see, this frame contains a photo of two victors. How often do you see that happen?" Seneca pauses briefly before answering. "Never, until now," He replys modestly. "Exactly. And we can not change that fact. Now tell me this- what is your job as a gamemaker?"

"To create arenas for our dear tributes," Seneca says bluntly. "Yes, but what else?" Questions Snow.

"I'm not sure where you are getting at, sir."

"What I meant was that the job of a gamemaker is to respect the rules of our lovely games. That did not happen this year," Snow hisses, angry at Seneca's decision, angry knowing that for once he wasn't in power. Seneca was, and he was only in his way of total impowerment, more then anyone could imagine.

"I'm truly sorry."

"No. You aren't."

"But-"

"_No. _You aren't. You aren't forgiven, and you are certainly not in power. I am! Do you hear me?" Snow blurts, outraged. Seneca takes a large step back, wary of the President's next move. The President's face turns sickly red, burning with raw anger, and his puffy lips gain a smile, though it is not genuine.

"I think I have just made a decision," Snow says, taking one large step forward. "And this time, the odds aren't in your favor. Right now, you are as weak as a tribute. And with that said, you are dead to me."

Dead. Just like the twenty two other tributes in the 74th annual hunger games. And to himself, Snow thinks, _there really is something wrong with that._

* * *

**Squee! I love one-shots. **

**I have to admit, this was one of the most serious things I have ever wrote and I hope I kept it tense. Tell me if I did? I actually felt some sympathy for Seneca while writing this, but that's just me. So there you have it, a little peak inside President Snow's grand home and his life outside of the games. Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
